


Breakdown

by NothingYouCouldLove



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Drama, Friendship, M/M, Mental Breakdown, POV First Person, Post Reichenbach, Psychological Trauma, Reader-Interactive, Reunions, Suicide, Tragedy, Tragic Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingYouCouldLove/pseuds/NothingYouCouldLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just want Sherlock back at my side, and to fill the void that grows with each passing day. </p>
<p>Perhaps I can join him where he has gone to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a piece on deviantART that I stumbled across.  
> http://trajektoria.deviantart.com/art/Sherlock-s-Lullaby-359444092

~John~

Ever since I lost my best friend, I have wanted nothing but to have him at my side again. Without him there's a void that I quickly found I couldn't fill by going to pubs or just out to try to find a girlfriend of some sort. I don't want one of those women - I don't want any woman; I only want him.

Nearly three years he's been gone, and not a moment of it have I spent in happiness. It seemed like always I was staring out onto the street hoping to see Sherlock walking up to the door and up into our flat. He would try to apologize as I punched and cursed at him. Then I would cry: he was still alive, and he had returned to me!

But, of course, he hadn't. Three years in a delusional state of mind had driven Sarah, the only woman willing to stay near me as I grieved, away from me. She wouldn't even answer her phone when I called. Where has Mrs. Hudson gone, you ask? She's was hospitalized with a rare form of tuberculosis last year, and she died a few days after I rushed her to the hospital. Molly? She moved away after Sherlock's death. America. I have no idea what hospital, or even which part of the country. I wish I did; some contact with someone from that happier time would do me some good, I'm sure.

What? Lestrade? He's buried too. He was killed six months ago; shot in the back by a murder suspect he was trying to arrest. I have no idea who took over for him, but I lost contact with his team after his death. I wasn't real friendly with them anyway. Before you ask, Stamford's moved to France for a year to teach university students. I don't remember exactly what he said he was going over there to teach, but he left a month ago.

I'm all alone, and never have I been worse off. All I do is sit in this chair and look out of the window for Sherlock to return.

The only reason I'm not looking out of it now, and having this chat with you instead is because I have given up hope at last. It's about time I've accepted it I suppose. Of course, though, I am going to do something about it.

You see the gun here? It's messy I know, but it's not like anyone will complain about the mess. Everyone's gone.

There's nowhere he goes that I can't follow.

 

~Sherlock~

Three years go by so quickly. Even to me, it feels as if it were only yesterday that I had left Baker Street for what everyone assumed was the last time. Even you thought it would be my last time, so you cannot deny it.

It's too quiet in here; either Mrs. Hudson is out or taking a nap. Well, she is older than when I left, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she's letting her age win. Don't give me that look; you know perfectly well what I'm speaking of. Look, just leave. No one else needs to see John cursing and punching me while I'm attempting an apology.

_Bang_

"John!" I'm through the door at the top of the stairs and into the flat quicker than I have ever been.

There's blood on the window looking out to the street and a gun on the floor next to the chair that my best friend occupied, but that's nothing I care about, (it's simply an automatic observation). I care about the man hunched over in the chair with his brains and blood on the wall and floor.

I guess I fell, because my knees hurt and I am on the floor, but I am no closer to John's corpse. I can't will myself up to get over to him, so I just stare while I feel something hot and wet running down my face.

Even from here, I can see his still open, blank, dead eyes, and his mouth open as if to scream one last time. I was too late for him, and now I don't know if I can follow him. I can easily pull the trigger like he did, but I don't know where he's gone. We never did discuss anything like it, but I always knew where he would go in the end, I would never be able to follow.

Of course, maybe just this once, I would be happy with being wrong. Maybe I would be okay with not being right, and being able to follow him after all.

Should I pull the trigger? Would I follow him even after all that I've done wrong in my life?


End file.
